


Like a Warm Hug

by Perhapsormaybe



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 15 minute writing sprints, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Mild Swearing, honestly the Teen rating is probably over the top, there's some alcohol use, writing fluff so the world won't be on fire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:20:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27410338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perhapsormaybe/pseuds/Perhapsormaybe
Summary: Crowley knew that the only dance Aziraphale knew was the gavotte. Of course he knew. Aziraphale had bemoaned it falling out of fashion so many times on drunken nights. This woman – Mimsy, he thought he'd heard someone call her – clearly did not know how to gavotte. Of course, neither did the other hapless people on the dance floor currently scurrying out of the angel's way. Mimsy's smile was forced as she called “You're a lovely dancer,” over the loud music.Crowley allowed himself a small chuckle rather than the full on guffaw that threatened to break out of him. Maybe the gavotte could have been ok, but one of Anathema's younger cousins had made it so the current song was Miley Cyrus Party in the USA. Between how British Aziraphale seemed to people and the awkward dancing, well... Crowley wasn't the only one laughing.The music switched to something lighter and Crowley edged his way to the dance floor. “Excuse me,” he said to Mimsy. His tone was polite, but it wasn't enough to make up for him bodily placing himself between her and Aziraphale. “May I have this dance?”Summary: A collection of ficlets. Only happy ones. All of the ones written so far were 15 minute sprint prompts, so they vary in length.
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 15





	1. May I Have This Dance

Crowley sat at the bar – well, sat was a generous way to describe it. Really, he lounged over it like he owned the place, a leg draped awkwardly across a bar stool while he stood on the other leg. His arms were spread behind him on the bar as he watched the scene before him. Anathema and Newt both looked radiant, he had to admit. And why shouldn't they? It was their wedding, after all. 

He wished them well, and he also wished he could focus on them. But his attention, unfortunately, was drawn to Aziraphale and his current dance partner. It was an older relative of Newt's, one that seemed to think Aziraphale was some sort of eclectic millionaire, judging by how strongly she was coming on and the faint whiff of desperation Crowley was getting off of her. He might have been jealous – if it weren't for the scene before him now. 

Crowley knew that the only dance Aziraphale knew was the gavotte. Of course he knew. Aziraphale had bemoaned it falling out of fashion so many times on drunken nights. This woman – Mimsy, he thought he'd heard someone call her – clearly did not know how to gavotte. Of course, neither did the other hapless people on the dance floor currently scurrying out of the angel's way. Mimsy's smile was forced as she called “You're a lovely dancer,” over the loud music. 

Crowley allowed himself a small chuckle rather than the full on guffaw that threatened to break out of him. Maybe the gavotte could have been ok, but one of Anathema's younger cousins had made it so the current song was Miley Cyrus Party in the USA. Between how British Aziraphale seemed to people and the awkward dancing, well... Crowley wasn't the only one laughing. 

The music switched to something lighter and Crowley edged his way to the dance floor. “Excuse me,” he said to Mimsy. His tone was polite, but it wasn't enough to make up for him bodily placing himself between her and Aziraphale. “May I have this dance?”

“Excuse me!”

“You're excused,” Crowley said without turning in her direction. Mimsy started to complain, but then caught the way Aziraphale was staring at Crowley. Realizing she'd never had a chance, she skulked off to find something strong to drink. 

“I only know the one,” Aziraphale reminded him. “And I don't think this song is spirited enough for the gavotte..”

Crowley didn't know the song. He caught a mention of “a thousand years” and then tuned the song back out again. “We'll figure it out together, right?” He offered his hand and Aziraphale took it. 

The dancing wasn't great. They sort of took turns stepping on each other's feet. But they had fun. They were laughing by the end of the song, nearly falling into each other's arms. 

“They make it look so easy,” Aziraphale said through peals of laughter, indicating another couple over Crowley's left shoulder. “Just stare at each other and sway.”

“Maybe we're too much in our own heads?” Crowley suggested. The music changed again, but it was another slow song. “We can always stop if you don't want to.”

“Ah, but I do want to,” Aziraphale gave Crowley's hand a squeeze and pushed himself closer. “It seems simple enough. If we're just closer together and just focus on each other-”

“Let the rest of the world fall away-”

“And just -” Aziraphale stared into Crowley's eyes. He wasn't sure if they were still moving. He was pretty sure he was forgetting how to breath right now, but that was all right. He didn't technically need to. A little overcome, he buried his face in Crowley's chest. They sort of swayed on the spot, more-or-less in time to the music. 

Crowley, for his part, had turned a stunning shade of red. It wasn't helped by Anathema and Newt giving him a thumbs up sign from the other side of the dance floor. He nodded awkwardly at them, then turned his attention back to Aziraphale. Part of him wanted to continue, and another part hoped that the next song would be a fast one, the kind of 'be-bop' that would get Aziraphale to want to sit down. 

No such luck for him. 

_You're in my arms and all the world is calm  
The music playing on for only two..._

Crowley searched the dance floor and saw Anathema scooting away from the DJ. She'd requested another slow one. Probably for his sake. 

The truth was, Crowley was loving every moment of this. He only wanted it to end because he assumed Aziraphale might be uncomfortable. “We can stop if you want, angel.”

“Who said anything about stopping?” Aziraphale was still snuggled up against him and gave no indication of moving.


	2. Best Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You can only have one best friend,” Crowley insisted. His arms crossed automatically, and he was a little annoyed to see Adam mirror the action. 
> 
> “Well, maybe you can only have one best friend. I have three.” Adam tried to bring himself to full height. Crowley still towered over him.

“You can only have one best friend,” Crowley insisted. His arms crossed automatically, and he was a little annoyed to see Adam mirror the action. 

“Well, maybe you can only have one best friend. I have three.” Adam tried to bring himself to full height. Crowley still towered over him. “Anyway, I don't see why it matters.”

“Because,” Crowley said through gritted teeth, “You have somehow convinced your mother I can take you to a movie and I am only letting you and one of your little hellion friends into my car.”

“You have room for all of us,” Adam insisted. 

“The back seat only seats three.”

“So I sit up front!”

“That's angel's seat,” Crowley hissed. 

“So? He's not coming anyway, is he?” Adam cocked his head to the side. “I just feel like Mr. Aziraphale wouldn't like Robo Zombies Rebellion.”

“He's not going to like it. That's part of the fun,” Crowley said as though it was the most obvious thing. “If we're to keep arguing like this can I at least come inside? If that RP Tyler guy catches me out here again he's going to start talking to me again and I'd like to avoid it.” the last conversation had been about Crowley's tattoo and how he definitely wouldn't be hired by any self respecting company so long as he had it. 

Adam stepped back and let Crowley through the doorway. They both took seats at the kitchen table. “Look, people have best friends. That's what your lot do. You only get one. That's why they're … you know _best_.”

“All of the Them are my best friends,” Adam insisted. “Pepper's the best at punching, and Wensleydale's the best at talking the teachers out of making us stay late and Brian's the best at finding weird stuff and making messes.”

“Well, Brian got two things, so clearly he's the best.” Crowley suggested, then thought better of it. “Actually... Wensleydale. He's clearly the best.” Or the least messy, anyway, Crowley didn't add. 

“Just cause you've only had one best friend this whole time doesn't mean I should have to limit myself. Maybe you should make more friends. Then you could have a few best friends instead of just the one.”

“Sure, fine. But seriously, kid, just pick one. We'll end up missing our showtime at this rate.”

“But they all want to see it! And I can make your backseat bigger-”

“Please don't talk about changing the Bentley,” Crowley winced. “It's not meant to have kids in it in the first place, especially not that many.”

“Would you give up your best friend?”

Crowley grumbled and put his face in his hands. “No,” he admitted. “But then, I only have the one. Like you said.”

“Anathema and Newt like you,” Adam offered. 

“Joy.”

“I just mean, it might be nice to have another best friend,” Adam's smile was older than his eleven years now, “Especially cause sometimes you may need to complain about him. My mom says that...that dad's her best friend, but Ms. Viola is her best friend that she can complain about dad to.”

“Your parents are possibly a little too forthcoming with you-”

“And,” Adam continued as though he hadn't been interrupted, “If you have a lover's spat or ...row or whatever, you and Newt could go to the pub and drink, like my dad does with Mr. Williams sometimes.”

“Right,” Crowley stood up and gathered his keys. “Call your little friends, we'll all go.”

“Really?”

“Yes, yes, just hurry.”

 _Anything to end this particular conversation_ , Crowley thought to himself. He shot off a text to Aziraphale to let him know to expect them soon. He resisted the urge to throw it when he saw Aziraphale's response:

_I told you he wouldn't pick among them, dear. I'll help you clean the Bentley out after we drive them all home from the movie tonight._


	3. When Was It For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I showed you mine, you show me yours. Spill. And don't try to tell me you and Aziraphale aren't a thing. No one's buying it.”
> 
> “You could at least ply me with some alcohol, you're asking for that old story,”

“So, when was it for you?” Anathema pretended not to notice Crowley choking on his tea. He regained his composure after a moment of clutching at his throat. 

He let out a small cough. “When was what?”

She shot him a look. “Oh, c'mon. We were just talking about when Newt and I met and how fast everything went and well...” she wiggled the engagement finger on her left hand at him. “I think you know what I'm asking about.”

“I thought I was here to talk about you?” Crowley asked, feigning innocence. The pair had become quite close in the last few years. She grew on you. Like a parasite, Crowley would insist. Not like he actually liked her. He only went shopping with her a few times a month because she had a good eye for deals. Really. There was no reason to make a big deal out of her wanting him to be the first to know that Newt had proposed.

“I hadn't expected to fall in love with him,” Anathema admitted, coming to sit next to Crowley on the couch. “I had hoped, of course. But it's kind of a relief. So...tell me! When was it for you?” Crowley looked away, carefully avoiding her gaze. “Because I think I knew shortly after he shut down all of those computers. Not the same day, which I guess is kind of weird. It was later that next night at a restaurant and he was trying to pay the waitress,” she giggled at the memory. “And he was so awkward and he got too close to the machine she was swiping the card on and it wouldn't work.”

“And that's what made your heart go all pitter patter?” he raised an eyebrow. She elbowed him in the rib cage for it. 

“I showed you mine, you show me yours. Spill. And don't try to tell me you and Aziraphale aren't a thing. No one's buying it.”

“You could at least ply me with some alcohol, you're asking for that old story,” he took a sip of his tea, then cradled the cup in both of his hands. “Fine.”

“You'll tell me?”

“Will you let me leave if I don't?” He didn't wait for an answer. “So, back in Eden...he told you I was the serpent?” she nodded. “Yeah, well, he wasn't the best guardian. I thought so at first, at least. Great big tree, right smack dab in the middle of the garden. He should have just stood there in front of it, waving the sword away. He never gets tired anyway, so why not? Not like he'd have to step away to take a break or a nap or anything.” 

Anathema tucked her knees under herself, trying to get comfortable. If he was starting all the way back in Eden, odds were this was a long story. She thought, at least.

“So after Eve takes a bite of the apple and Adam does the same... he gave them the sword.”

“Yeah, you guys told me..”

Crowley wasn't listening to her. He chuckled at the memory. “He gave away his sword. Just like that. Could have gotten in an awful lot of trouble, but it's like he didn't even think of that. Saw they were in trouble and just reached out and ...and helped. Told me the truth about it when I asked him. Not like he was proud of it – it wasn't that show-boaty niceness some of the other angels do. Performative, y'know? No, not with him. He really was just helping them. Didn't stop to question it.”

“It was love at first sight?” Anathema wasn't one to squeal, but she felt like she was on the verge.

“Nah, not really. I saw him in the garden a few times before that. It was more like ...love at first conversation? And only because he showed me right away what kind of angel he is. The only one of them that lives up to the name, if you ask me. I sure wouldn't call that Gabriel bastard an angel, anyway....and Sandalphon?” he shuddered. “Guy's a creep.”

“Is that why you call him angel?” Anathema bounced a little on the spot. 

“Shut up,” Crowley said, returning his attention to his tea. “You asked, I told you. And we're done talking about it now, yeah? Won't bring it up again?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” she said solemnly, crossing herself. Crowley shuddered. 

“Now why would you do that? You're a witch and I'm a demon, both of us can just ignore that--” He grabbed a pillow on the couch and hit her with it. “Ah, I see. Because this way you can ask me more later.”

“Proud? I've picked up on some of your sneakier habits since we started hanging out.”

“Eh. You've still got a ways to go. Not a bad start, though.”


	4. Jewelry Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Aziraphale would like Anathema's assistance in picking out a very important piece of jewelry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I often write Anathema with Crowley or Newt hanging out with Crowley. I've never written Anathema and Aziraphale hanging out together and I wanted to, but they still went and made it about Crowley in the abstract. Well, maybe next time. Side note, I am taking requests if anyone has a prompt. The jewelry store is a made up place.

Anathema adjusted the rear view mirror as Aziraphale scooted into the car. She was parked in front of the book shop to pick him up, and she didn't bother to cut the engine since they would presumably get going soon. 

“Hello, my dear,” he said as he got in, placing a tartan bag on the floor. A light snack for later, knowing him. “I trust you're doing well?”

“Of course,” she nodded politely, trying to think of how to phrase her questions. Or which one to ask first. “Newt was ok with me taking the car, but he was curious about where we're going?” 

“Oh, dear, I thought I'd mentioned?” Aziraphale frowned, buckling himself in and avoiding looking at her. “I just thought you could help me with a bit of shopping.”

“Doing some more baking?” Her tone was hopeful. The last cake Aziraphale had sent her way had been declared as “heavenly” by both herself and Newt. She wasn't one for baking herself and had been hoping he could teach her some of his tricks. 

“No, no. I have plenty of supplies for that.”

“Aziraphale,” she said, cutting to the chase, “If you don't tell me where we're going I don't know where to drive to.”

“Quite. Er – Espouse Joy.”

“The jewelry place?” She didn't wait for his response before she pulled off of the curb, heading in the store's direction. “What are we looking for today?” By the knowing smile she was giving him, Aziraphale figured she already knew damn well what they were on the way for, so he didn't give an answer. 

“I have to say, it's nice being in the car with someone who drives the speed limit,” he said appreciatively. “I brought some biscuits with me in the bag – longue du chats. For afterward.”

“That's nice,” she switched lanes carefully and tried to choose her words. She and Crowley had made fast friends but she and Aziraphale didn't tend to talk to one another much. They could easily sit together in companionable silence, reading together. But other than conversations on interesting books and theories on mystical items, well.. they hadn't found any other common ground yet. So she had been shocked to have the angel invite her out shopping and now further surprised she was being invited for such an important reason. 

“Thank you. For doing this, I mean. The ride and the ...helping.”

“What am I helping with?”

“You know what,” he was pouting now.

“Yes, I do,” she spared a glance towards him before focusing again on the road ahead. “I know why you want to go to the jewelry store. But you could have taken the bus. So what I want to know is why you want me with you for this? Not that I mind, I'm happy to do it. I'm just ...curious.”

“You two seem to get along,” he gave a shrug. “I thought you might be better able to help me find something he would like. I have some designs on the whole thing, of course, but he always says I'm so old fashioned and it really should be something he likes, right?”

Anathema reached over and patted his leg comfortingly. “It's coming from you. He'll like it.”

“No, he'll pretend to like it. I want him to _actually_ like it.”

“I'm happy to help. But you could just do a simple band. Or just ...miracle it into existence?”

“Not quite the same, I'm afraid. Feels like it would be taking the easy way out. No, I want to do it the human way, this time around. I think he'll appreciate that.”

Anathema could get the logic in that. Crowley certainly seemed enamored of human craft and invention, at least. He was quite fond of looking through her spell books and at her collection of different occult items (though he had declared some silly superstitions, and even taken credit for tricking humans about it in the first place - “Patchouli was a joke, I thought it smelled too terrible for anyone to take me seriously”, he'd once told her. She'd splashed some on him in revenge) 

“I'm honored,” she said genuinely. “Looks like we're here. Do you have any idea where you want to get started? Or what size he is?”

“No idea on the size, but I believe that he won't mind me miracling a bit if I get it wrong, eh?” Anathema parked the car and they both got out. “I was thinking white gold or silver. Gold is lovely, of course, and matches his eyes but ...I don't quite think it would work for his sense of style.”

Anathema nodded her agreement and went to hold the door to the shop open for him. He went in but then reached back and pulled her along after him. She looped an arm through his. “So,” she waved at the cashier but shook her head to indicate that they weren't ready for assistance yet, “How do we want to do this?”

“Well, see that's part of the trouble,” he admitted. “I have no idea where to even start,” he led her to the nearest jewelry case – mostly engagement rings. Huge, hulking things with stones so large you could use them as a weapon. “The red on the rubies is nice, but I don't know that he'd like the shape of those... Diamonds are traditional, of course, but Crowley ...isn't.”

Anathema nodded sympathetically. She examined her own engagement ring – a simple but elegant diamond band. She wondered for a moment if Newt had felt as agonized as Aziraphale looked right now. “Did you think about asking Newt?”

Aziraphale shook his head. “Crowley told me Newt dresses like-” he remembered who he was with and clammed up.

“Oh, no, you're not getting off that easily. Dresses like what?”

“Said he dresses like his mother picked out his clothes until recently and that poor Newt hasn't quite figured out how to do it on his own yet,” they were still arm in arm, and Aziraphale reached his free hand to pat Anathema's. “Feel free to ignore him. He likes your Newton very much and I think it scares him. Being friends with a witch like yourself is all well and good for a demon, but a human? Too much for him to admit.”

“And yet he's in love with an angel.”

“Yes, well, seems I'm the exception.”

“Can I help you?” a different clerk seemingly materialized from thin air behind them. Aziraphale and Anathema both jumped. Anathema clutched at her heart as they turned to face the new clerk. An overeager looking man was practically bouncing on his heels. “Aww, are the lovebirds looking for something nice?”

“I'm afraid you have it quite wrong, good man,” Aziraphale shook his head. Anathema appreciated that he still kept his arm in hers. He apparently did not care what signals it was sending. 

“Oh, sorry! Something nice for your daughter then?”

“Certainly not,” Anathema tried not to laugh at how icy Aziraphale's voice went. 

“What would be so wrong about me being your kid? You're old enough to have one.”

The clerk looked like he was a computer that had recently encountered Newt. He stood there, staring at them for a full minute. He was blinking rapidly as he seemed to be trying to figure out their connection to one another. “Well...” he finally tried again. “Is there _anything_ I can help you find?”

“An engagement ring,” Aziraphale finally admitted. “And before you get it wrong again, I'll have you know it's for a man,” he added 'shaped thing' under his breath, but the clerk didn't hear him. 

“Oh!” The man looked back and forth between Anathema, apparently finally catching up. “Oh, ok. I see. We do have a line of wedding bands for men, any of them could be used as engagement rings.”

“Well, I quite like the idea of having an engagement ring for him,” Aziraphale insisted. “And if we have matching wedding bands and then he has an engagement ring that's a wedding band I suspect it won't look uh...um...cool,” he said the last word quickly, as though he desperately hadn't wanted to use it, but couldn't find one to replace it.

Anathema held back a chuckle out of politeness. The word 'cool' just didn't have a place in Aziraphale's vocabulary. Unless, perhaps, he were describing the weather. “Maybe if you had something subtle?” he frowned and turned his attention to Anathema. “Though I suppose one wouldn't call Crowley subtle, eh?”

She nodded. “No, I don't think anyone would make that mistake,” to the clerk, she added “Maybe if you have any circular engagement rings – nothing with a princess or pear cut. Just flush, perhaps?”

“Oh, of course... any particular stone you'd like?”

“Onyx,” Aziraphale said automatically. “I think that would do quite nicely, if you have it. Or obsidian.”

The clerk rushed off, promising to be back in just a moment. When he came back he had a tray with multiple rings on it, all of them with dark black stones along the band. Aziraphale leaned in to examine them, but didn't touch any of them. “This one?” his finger hovered above one that was onyx and ruby in an alternating pattern. 

Anathema gave a small round of polite applause. “I think it's perfect. It's very Crowley.”

“I'll take it, then.”

“Excellent choice, sir. Let me just get that boxed up for you,” the clerk again scurried away and came back with the ring in a box, indicating for Aziraphale to follow after him. “My name is Mark, and you'll just go check out at the front with Ashley. Just tell her I assisted you today. Have a lovely day, and congratulations!”

“Oh, thank you. You have a lovely day as well, Mark,” Aziraphale headed to the front with the box and checked out, making sure to mention that Mark had helped him. “So now... a spot of lunch to celebrate? My treat, of course.”

“Sure, sure,” Anathema said, but her attention was on her phone and she was trying not to let her emotions read on her face. Crowley had written: 

_Gonna do it. Going to ask Angel to marry me. Help me pick out a ring?_


	5. Jewelry Shopping Redux

t was only a week later that found Anathema at Espouse Joy again, this time with Crowley on her arm. She spotted Mark, the same clerk from the previous week and gave him a mischievous grin. 

“Oh, hell ag--”

“Yes, hello,” she cut him off, letting her raised eyebrows do all the talking for her. He wasn't sure what the deal was, but he did immediately figure out that he was not intended to talk about the previous week. He was confused for a moment, but then took a closer look at Crowley and realized the ring from last week almost exactly matched the man's stylistic choices. 

“Yes, yes,” Crowley held up a hand. “Engagement rings.”

“He means we'd like to see your engagement rings. For men, please.”

“Sort of a man, anyway,” Crowley muttered under his breath. Mark smiled and returned after only a few minutes with a new tray of engagement rings. These were the oldest ones he was able to find, in styles he knew to be outdated. 

“Do you suppose,” Crowley drawled as he picked one up, “Anyone has worn this style since the fifteenth century?”

“Well, Aziraphale probably would prefer something old fashioned,” Anathema pointed out. Mark stiffened and tried to stifle his smirk. So this really was the future fiancé of the man from last week. Good to know. 

“Crowley,” Anathema said, picking through the rings herself. “Do you have any idea what you want for him?”

“No.”

Anathema sighed. “Style of ring? Gold, silver, white gold, platinum? Do you want gemstones?”

“That's why I brought you along, isn't it? To help me.”

“To do it for you,” she elbowed him. “I think you do know exactly what you want and you're playing coy. How long have you been in love with him? I bet you've been ring shopping since Eden.”

Mark stopped listening, assuming these were just inside jokes (Surely they meant Eden, the gay club on the other side of town? He was pretty sure). 

“They didn't do wedding rings in that time,” was Crowley's only defense. Which was true. Marriage hadn't really been invented yet. So Crowley hadn't known it was something he'd want for himself one day back then. If he'd had the word, though, maybe... well, no. Aziraphale said Crowley went too fast sometimes, so if he'd proposed all the way back in Eden he would have been turn down, surely. 

“Sapphires, I think,” Crowley finally said after a few minutes of quiet reflection. “And I suppose he'd like gold but,” he shuddered, “Yellow gold is tacky. White gold for him, I think,” he eyed the rings on the tray from multiple angles before picking one up. “This one.” He brought it to Mark's attention, who stared at the ring. He'd only just picked out these rings, he didn't remember any of them being in the shape of wings that where they joined together in the front had a line of sapphires. In truth, Crowley had found one ring and changed it until it was sufficient. 

“Did you want engraving?”

“Ngk. I guess.” Crowley reached into his pocket and handed Mark a piece of paper. Mark was about to comment on how Crowley had already had this ready despite only 'guessing' at wanting the engraving, but decided against it. He got commission, after all. He glanced at the card and tried not to react. It was almost impossible. There was something very odd about the vibe Crowley gave off. He seemed very rough around the edges, almost demonic, really. And yet here he'd written 'for my angel' on the card. Really much softer than the image he was projecting, but Mark could understand why. He was a frequent visitor at Eden himself, actually (the gay club, not the actual garden). 

Crowley paid but was irritated to find that the engraving would take a little while. 

“What's a few more days?” Anathema insisted. What she knew was that the ring Aziraphale intended for Crowley had been brought back to the store just that morning as Aziraphale had decided he also wanted to take them up on the engraving offer. 

“Fine. Just kind of wanted to get on with it,” Crowley admitted. “Lunch? My treat. Wherever you want to go, I guess. Just not that new sushi place, Aziraphale hasn't been there yet and if I go there with someone else first I'll never hear the end of it.”

“Thank you, Mark!” Anathema called as they left the store, resisting the urge to add 'again' lest she give the game away. Mark waved behind her, then checked his schedule. Seeing he wasn't on for the day that Aziraphale and Crowley's rings would be ready, he made a few calls until someone agreed to swap him shifts. He wasn't about to miss this. Mark was very soft for happy endings.

* * *

The next few days Aziraphale had intended to avoid Crowley. He was quite irked to find that Crowley hadn't called or been around, so there was no need to avoid him. He resisted the temptation to pick up the phone and call the demon, just to tell him that he couldn't see him right now. It was silly. But he ended up having to move his cell phone out of his line of sight to avoid calling.

Thankfully the number he'd given Espouse Joy was the one for the shop. He was thrilled when they called to say the ring was ready. He assured the jeweler he would be there immediately. 

Well... now was the time. He finally went to pick up the phone to call Crowley, but just as he picked up the phone it rang. 

“Hello, Angel,” Crowley said. “I need to run an errand and wanted to know if you'd come along.”

“Oh. Certainly. I was about to call you to ask you for a ride. I have something I need to take care of as well.”

“Oh, sure. Where did you need to go?”

“Uh...” Aziraphale tried to cast about for what was nearest to the jewelry store and therefore wouldn't arouse suspicions. But it also had to be a place Crowley would expect Aziraphale to want to go. “The new chocolatier. Cocoa To Go, I think?” 

“Ah,” Crowley was smiling. That was practically next door to the Espouse Joy, and so wouldn't tip Aziraphale off to where they were going. Maybe it would be more romantic to get the ring and then propose at the chocolate shop? He could always run inside (claim he just needed to pick up something for Anathema) and then run back out. 

Aziraphale was having nearly an identical thought. 

“I think we need to do my thing first,” Crowley explained, but didn't pause to allow Aziraphale to disagree. “I'll be there to pick you up in a few minutes.”

True to his word, it was only three minutes later that Crowley was coming through the front door of the bookshop. Aziraphale was trying to make himself appear less eager than he felt. He'd successfully resisted the urge to wait outside the shop. Though he felt he was an obvious bundle of exposed nerves right now. He and Crowley had known each other so long that normally they easily picked up on any differences in one another's mood. However, with both of them trying to play cool they were too distracted by their own ploys to notice the other's. 

Aziraphale locked the book shop behind him with a snap of his fingers as they both made their way to the car. “So where did you need to go?” Aziraphale finally asked.

“It won't take long,” Was all Crowley offered as he put the car in gear and set off. For Aziraphale's sake, he actually drove a little more slowly than usual. He was only going eighty-five right now. Aziraphale would have been proud if he'd been paying attention. 

When they pulled up in front of the jewelry shop and parked, Aziraphale finally looked over at Crowley. “Uh. I need to go in there, actually.” He admitted. 

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Me too. Why did you need to, though?”

“Getting something for Anathema,” Aziraphale wiggled a bit, feeling nervous at the lie. “And you?”

“Uh. Getting something for...” he had been going to say Anathema as well, so he cast about for any of the other humans he knew and landed, awkwardly on: “Newt.”

“Newt?” Aziraphale repeated. 

“Yeah,” Crowley figured it was best to double down. “C'mon then, Angel. If we're both going we may as well go,” he crawled out of the car and waited for Aziraphale to join him. He even held the door open for Aziraphale, who gave him a grateful smile before hurrying over to find Mark. He hadn't gotten a word out when he felt Crowley behind him. “You, Clerk Human, could you bring me the thing?”

Mark nodded and started to go back to get the ring, but Aziraphale stopped him.

“If I could trouble you to also grab my item, please. There's a lad.”

Mark beamed at both of them and rushed off to get the rings. He sent out a text to the friend group he'd been keeping updated about this particular story, letting them know it was about to happen and he'd have more details later. 

The rings were in their nice boxes – the kind that made it very clear what was inside of them and what their intended purpose was. He placed the black box in front of Aziraphale and the white box in front of Crowley. 

Aziraphale's mouth opened in a soft “oh” as he started to figure out what was going on here. 

Crowley seemed more frustrated. He leaned forward and let his head rest on the glass of the jewelry case. If Mark weren't so invested in their romance, he might have asked him to knock it off, since Mark was the one who was going to have to clean that glass later. 

“Is something wrong?” Aziraphale asked, putting a hand on Crowley's shoulder. 

“No. I ...I don't think so,” Crowley pushed himself up. “Angel, is that what I think it is?” he gestured at Aziraphale's box.

“I suppose it must be. Is yours what I think it is?”

“...probably.”

“May I?” 

Crowley nodded, thinking Aziraphale wanted to open the box to see the ring. Instead, he got down on one knee. “My dear, I had hoped to do this at the restaurant or maybe at the shop or the park, but I find I'm growing a little impatient,” he grabbed Crowley's hand. Crowley, sensing it was the right thing to do slid off his glasses so he and Aziraphale could look in each other's eyes. “I want to spend the rest of our lives together. I know that is a very, very long time for beings like us, but we've been together so long, one way or another. And I don't want that to ever end. Will you marry me?”

Crowley thought for a moment that maybe he should feel robbed. He'd had a whole speech prepared and had been planning to be the one to pop the question. But this felt right. He'd been worried this whole time that Aziraphale may have felt this was too fast, and Crowley tried to let him lead when possible. Besides, it was the outcome Crowley was hoping for. What was the point in being upset, just because Aziraphale got to ask the question?

Instead, he pulled Aziraphale up to his feet and kissed him. When they broke apart, Crowley seized his new ring out of the box and put it on his ring finger without bothering to even look at it. Aziraphale opened the white box and let out a gasp before delightedly slipping on his own ring.

“There's an engraving,” Crowley muttered, fiddling with his own ring. “On the inside.”

Aziraphale took his ring off and looked at the engraving. “Beautiful, Crowley. Yours has one as well.”

Crowley also took his off and examined it. It said 'yours to thwart'. Crowley chuckled at it. He then realized Mark had been watching them. “You knew about this the whole time, huh?” 

Mark shrugged, looking more than a little guilty. “Aziraphale picked out his ring a bit before you did.”

“Anathema!” Crowley grumbled. “She went with you, too, didn't she?” Aziraphale nodded. “And she didn't tell me! You'd think she could have given me some kind of warning. I could have saved a bit of money by just letting you propose first, you know.”

“Oh, but I do like my ring,” Aziraphale insisted. “I'm glad we had the same idea. Though I still would very much like to head to the chocolate place.”

“Of course,” Crowley held out his hand and Aziraphale took it. “My treat?”

“Oh, I think I still owe you from last time...”

“Does it matter? We're about to be married. Gonna come from the same account eventually, right?”

“Married,” Aziraphale repeated, a little skip in his step. “Well I'll be damned.”

“Told you you'd get used to it, Angel.” They headed out of the jeweler and Mark watched them going, feeling both touched and a little confused by the pair. He finished texting his friends about what had occurred before going to clean the glass cases. Then (because of the touch of two miracles at once from an angel and demon who were both in excellent spirits right now and who wanted to pass on the good fortune and thought he needed a push of confidence) he thought to finally text Eric and ask to see him tonight, as a date. 

And without the assistance of a miracle, Eric said yes.


End file.
